Teach-Primary-Issue-19.3

The writer is a headteacher in England. VO I C E S I feel the buzz in my pocket. It’s 7:55 am. The scheduled emails land from the day before, and I feel my stomach lurch. I appreciate them not coming through out of hours, but the collection of messages that awaits each morning still causes a physical reaction; the problem is just shifted a few hours down the line. I snatch a glimpse at my phone screen while the motorway traffic is at a standstill. A sigh of relief, and my heart rate slows down; nothing too bad has come in overnight to start the day on a sour note. When I finally get to school, I give a few brief and rushed greetings to people as I dash through to my office. I’m just able to put my bag down and have a quick catch-up with the deputy head before heading out for gate duty. This is one of the best bits of the day; checking in with everyone, hearing about their evenings, sharing a smile. After that, the bell goes, the gate swings shut, and the rest of the day begins. Today’s diary is a pretty full one – open morning, meeting with the class reps, a governors’ meeting. Three tours and a presentation later, I sit down at my desk to 36 new emails. Most are not a problem, but two relate to the formal complaint currently being handled by the governors. The subject lines form an instant ball of panic in my stomach. Deep down I know I didn’t get it as wrong as is being made out, but the problem is, that is a rationale. Emotions aren’t rational. This is the stuff that affects me most; the personal things. The thought of someone being upset because of me, or my actions – that’s what keeps me awake at night. That is what causes the catastrophising, the endless chain of events in my mind that always ends up with me resigning, getting fired, or at worst, being found criminally responsible for something. I know that is ridiculous, but that is where my mind takes me. The thing is, the class reps meeting was OK. The usual gripes and groans, but, looking at it rationally (that word again), if that is the extent of the problems the parent body has at the moment, we are probably doing pretty well. Open morning brings another opportunity to show off the school, and every time I do it makes me proud. Proud of the staff, and proud of the children. Proud of everything we work for and the reaction we get from parents who look around. But it’s the complaint that’s led to the panic attacks and the fear of walking out the front door in the morning. That’s what has led to the talking therapy and the anti-depressant medication. Those things have helped. I have been in a better place, but I can feel things sliding downwards again recently, affected by the complaint in particular. There is a knock on the door. An LSA needs to chat to me about something. “Of course,” I say, “come and sit down”. The world outside my head wouldn’t know what’s going on underneath. The smile masks it, and I become what people need me to be. That’s my job. The thing is, I know that what I experience is nothing different to thousands of others, and not just thousands of others in teaching, but in professions everywhere. But that is the worrying part. It’s. Not. Just. Me. And people at every level of school staff feel this way. It’s not sustainable and is a driving factor behind the recruitment and retention issues our profession is facing. I try to do everything I can to make the staff in our school not feel the way I do, not have to experience that knot in the stomach every morning, and I hope I manage to do that, at least some of the time. I don’t know how it gets better, I don’t know what needs to change, but for now, I have a governors’ meeting to get to, and policies to approve. Let’s see what tomorrow brings. TP “It’s the personal stuff that’s led to the fear of walking out of the door in the morning” The stresses of being a headteacher have left me with panic attacks and depression. No wonder we have a retention crisis... Our anonymous educator gets something off their chest www.teachwire.net | 19